See Me
by peter-pan-equals-luv
Summary: *COMPLETE* He stands on the bridge, staring over the railing as the cars fly past. It would be so easy, he thinks.  Just to step on the railing and let go, to fall, fall, fall. suicide themes
1. Chapter 1

He stands on the bridge, staring over the railing as the cars fly past. He can see the people in them, some smiling as their mouths move, talking or singing along to the radio, he doesn't know. Some are frowning, their brows furrowed as they talk into cell phones. Some are dancing, or trying to.

It would be so easy, he thinks. Just to step on the railing and let go, to fall, fall, fall.

Things would be better, for him at least.

He thinks of his father and how sad he would be if he were gone, can picture the absolute heartbreak on his face when he hears the news. He would probably be the only one who would miss him. His friends, they're all too preoccupied with their own lives. He doesn't begrudge them, just wishes that someone would _see_ him.

Taking a deep breath, he grabs the cold metal of the railing, carefully hauling himself up until he's standing on the concrete that the metal is buried in.

It would be so easy…

"Excuse me?"

He jerks, nearly falling, and then there are strong arms bracing him, helping him down.

"Hey, whoa, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," a voice tells him and he turns to find a boy about his age, his arms still tightly wrapped around his waist. "I just thought you could use some help."

"What?" he rasps, blinking.

"I thought, I don't know, that you were going to jump or something, I guess." The boy finally releases him, looking embarrassed.

He looks down, shrugging, not answering.

"Look, I'm-" The boy breaks off, sighs. "I'm not going to pretend to know your story or anything, but if you need to talk." He can see the boy shuffling his feet nervously. "I do know what it's like to need someone to talk to." He looks up to see the boy staring at him intently before he thrusts a hand out. "My name is Blaine."

He reaches out, grasping the warm hand, feeling the callus' on his fingers. "Kurt," he manages to gasp.

Blaine's face breaks out into a grin. "May I buy you a coffee, Kurt? We don't have to talk or anything," he adds when Kurt just keeps looking at him, "it's just that you look rather cold and some coffee would warm you up."

Kurt hesitates. Isn't this what he wanted? Someone to see him?

"Sure, Blaine, let's get coffee."


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt sits in the passenger seat of Blaine's car, fingers nervously fidgeting with the ends of his scarf. He chances a glance at the other boy every so often, finding him humming along to whatever Top 40 station is currently playing, the volume low. He hadn't tried to force Kurt to talk, simply told him about his favourite coffee shop, not far down the road, and then turned up the heater.

He was still a little unsure of Blaine, if he was serious or if he was actually taking Kurt off to murder him in some field somewhere, but he couldn't bring himself to make Blaine pull over, to leave his presence. For the first time in a long time, someone had noticed him, his pain, and he was reluctant to let that go. Too long he had been numb inside. Years of locker checks and slushee facials had caused him to block out the world, block out the feelings of being lesser than everyone because of something he couldn't help but be. Even when he joined glee, he had clung tightly to the feeling of nothingness.

He tried opening up to Artie once, tried to find the words to tell him how he felt, because surely the boy in the wheelchair would understand, but they had caught in his throat, stuck there and unable to escape. So he kept silent, not allowing anyone to see how much the derogatory names and the feel of metal hitting his back actually hurt him. His friends never paid close enough attention to see the pain hidden behind his blue eyes, never let them see the bruises

"We're here," a soft voice says, breaking him out of his reverie. Kurt looks up to see a small brick building, the windows decorated with cheesy Christmas decoration, even though the holiday i`s a month away. He turns to look at Blaine, who gives him a half smile. "We don't have to go in, if you don't want the coffee."

"No, it's fine," Kurt whispers, dragging his eyes away from the boy and slowly getting out of the car. He stuffs his hands in his pockets as Blaine follows his lead, shutting his car door and pressing the lock button on his key fob.

They walk inside and place their orders with the barista, Blaine brushing off his offer to pay. Once they've collected their coffee, they find a corner in the back. Kurt takes a sip before setting his cup on the table, rotating it almost absent mindedly as he stares at his hands.

They stay silent, Blaine simply drinking his medium drip as he looks out the window, his fingers tapping out a rhythm in the air while Kurt tries to decide what, if anything, he's going to tell this stranger.

"I'm gay," he hears himself say, his eyes trained on the faux wood grain of the tabletop. Blaine makes a noise of acknowledgement

"The people at school, they-" he pauses, tries to push through the lump in his throat, "they hate me for that fact." He shrugs helplessly. "The jocks, in particular, they make my life a living hell. There's one, he seems to take some kind of sick joy in shoving me into lockers and, and throwing frozen drinks in my face."

The tears he's held back for so many years start falling when he blinks and he doesn't bother to wipe them away as he continues. "My friends, I-I know they care, but no one seems to notice tha-" A sob pushes through, cutting off his words and then there's an arm around him as he shakes and he turns into them.

He clutches the fabric of Blaine's jacket, for once not caring how expensive something is and just taking comfort in the feel of strong arms holding him, the voice of an angel gently reassuring him that he is safe, he's not alone, things would be okay.

Blaine keeps holding him, doesn't let him go even though he can't be in a comfortable position, just let's him cry until he's exhausted, his body trembling. He's presented with a handkerchief when he finally pulls away. He quietly thanks Blaine as the other boy goes to sit down, picking up his coffee and making a face when he realizes it's grown cold.

"I'll buy you another one," Kurt whispers.

Blaine shakes his head, "No, you won't, this is fine." Kurt bites his lip, his eyes flitting to the windows as Blaine clears his throat. "I won't belittle your pain by saying it'll be okay, you just have to power through it. It's hard and it will probably get worse before it gets better." He reaches a hand out slowly, picking up Kurt's and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I know how you feel, what it's like." When Kurt meets his eyes questioningly, he continues. "I'm gay too and I was bullied at my old school."

Kurt straightens in shock. Blaine is gay? "You're gay?"

Blaine lets out a little chuckle. "Yes, I am." His eyes shift nervously. "Kurt, may I ask you something? Something personal?"

He hesitates for a moment, considering. "Sure."

He meets Kurt's eyes, holds them with his hazel ones. "Were you going to jump?"

Kurt inhales sharply, not expecting the question, not knowing the answer. "I-"

Blaine holds up his hand. "Don't answer if you don't feel comfortable doing so."

Kurt bites his lip as they lapse back into silence. He has to force himself not to run his hand through his hair in frustration as he thinks. Would he have? "I don't know." He says it out loud, answering both questions at once.

Blaine takes his hand once more, squeezing it as a single tear slips out of his eye.

**A/N: Let me end this by saying, I'm not good at writing angst. It takes a special kind of mood for me to be able to do it and, as you can tell, what comes out isn't very long. That being said, some people have requested I continue this and if I do, you guys will have to deal with sporadic and short updates. Personally, I like where it left off, but my muse wants more as well (it's fun making her all ;_; in Skype). So, if you guys want me to continue, let me know and prepare yourself for long waits.**


	3. Chapter 3

_Twenty years later  
><em>  
>Kurt scowled at his husband before turning around to flip the grilled cheese sandwiches he was making. His ass stung as it was pinched again but before he could turn around, a warm body was pressed against his back.<p>

"No, go away, I'm still mad at you," Kurt said, smacking lightly at the arms that were snaking around his waist and rolling his shoulders as light kisses were pressed on them. "No, Blaine, go away," he giggled.

"Mm, no, I happen to like where I'm at," he murmured, hooking his chin on Kurt's shoulder and nuzzling his neck. A hand tugged at the hem of his shirt and a calloused palm slid against the flat planes of his stomach. "I can't help that my husband is so beautiful that I can't keep my hands off of him," Blaine said, his breath ghosting over the shell of Kurt's ear, making him tremble. "I can't help myself when you wear those pants; it makes me-"

"And I'm begging you not to finish that sentence," a high voice piped up. Blaine unhooked his chin with a chuckle and turned to find their thirteen year old daughter standing at the kitchen door, her nose wrinkled at the sight of her fathers.

"Aw, is Lacy jealous that she's not getting cuddles," Blaine cooed, unwrapping himself from Kurt and running to the girl, his arms wide open. Lacy shrieked, ducking under his arms and glaring when he made to chase her.

"Blaine, be nice," Kurt scolded.

"Kurt, you're burning lunch," Blaine retorted mockingly. Kurt let out a yelp, twirling and pulling the slightly blackened sandwiches out of the pan.

"Did you need something, sweetie, or were you just checking on lunch," he asked, moving the plateful of sandwiches over to the table while Blaine grabbed the salad from the fridge.

"Actually, I need help on a project for art class," Lacy said, placing a piece of paper and a pen on the table next to her. "We're supposed to do one on our parents and I need you guys to answer a couple of questions, please?"

"Of course," they said at the same time, grinning at each other.

"Perfect!" Lacy took a bite of her food while glancing at her paper. "Okay, where did you guys meet?"

Kurt looked at Blaine in horror; he wasn't ready to tell their daughter about how horrible things were for him back then, how Blaine had pulled him off of the side of the bridge as he contemplated jumping. But Blaine saved him from answering.

"Your papa was hitchhiking and I decided to help him out by picking him up and buying coffee," he said breezily.

Lacy rolled her eyes, clearly somewhat disbelieving. "Okay, next question, when did you fall in love?"

Blaine grinned. "Well, papa was expressing his sadness through song and I realized that he was the most perfect person on earth."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "What daddy means is I was singing a song to my dead bird and he finally opened his eyes to what was right in front of him."

Blaine and Lacy laughed as Blaine nodded in agreement. "All right, all right, it's true, I was horribly blinded by shiny objects-"

"Cough, the Gap, cough," Kurt said, pretending to clear his throat. Blaine leveled him with a glare, to which Kurt smiled sweetly in return.

"What about you, papa?" Lacy asked, pulling the attention back to her.

Kurt looked at Blaine for a moment, a smaller, secretive smile playing at the corner of his lips. "He saw me when nobody else did."

**The end**


End file.
